I cried tonight.

I cried because my youngest wouldn't go to sleep.

It had been a long day.

A long day with three kids and daddy working late that was preceded by many more long days and long hours for both he and me.

Every day has been a long day.

Every day in this house.

In this house only.

And, well, outside only a little for some bike riding.

Tonight, I stepped in dog poop.

Then my girl put up a fight when I tried to give her some medicine to help with her cough.

So much so that she peed on my bed and me.

She peed in her bed last night, and so continues the sheet washing escapade.

I cried tonight cause I felt spent.

And then I cried a little more because I felt guilty for feeling spent.

I had just watched a video on how, in Spain, they don't have enough ventilators, and so no one over the age of 65 is getting them, only the young.

WTF.

And here I am, crying over stupid shut.

I infuriate myself.

But I also understand myself.

And it's this mixed-up, confusing, semi-beautiful, ultimately transformative thing to realize that being human is feeling a million and one things at once, and not faulting yourself for it.

I want to go back to the time when it was okay for me to feel spent after a long day at home with my kids. But, maybe, just perhaps, all of this is teaching me and every one of us that we need to fight just a little more, a little harder, to see past our everyday hardships, so that we can notice and give gratitude for the daily blessings they mask.

Speaking of masks — America is running low on them, can you make some?

I wish I knew how.

I should learn.

I cried tonight.

I cried about something, but really, I cried about everything.

And, that is okay; it's allowed.